


I Know

by hunters_retreat



Category: Terminator: Sarah Connor Chronicles
Genre: First Time, Future is the past, M/M, Post-Apocalypse, Pre-Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-09
Updated: 2014-04-09
Packaged: 2018-01-18 17:38:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1436971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hunters_retreat/pseuds/hunters_retreat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He knew that look from so many days in the trenches but he’d never understood.  Until now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Know

  
There was no other word for the look in his eyes, no other thought or emotion that could encompass what he was seeing.  He knew that look, had seen it in an older version of the man before him, but he’d never understood.  They’d never been like that.  Derek had never been able to focus on anything more than his brother and John Connor had a war to win and it wasn’t until he’d shoved him back in time and he’d come face to face with the younger man that he understood that look.

Desire.

He’d run as far as he could, tried to be as gruff and uncaring as he could be but he was John fucking Connor and even if he wasn’t, he was his goddamned nephew and there was no way he could watch John suffer and not reach out. 

It was all lost after that.

John stripped the clothes off him in military precision, a manner he realized was more his teaching than Sarah’s.  As much as John loved and listened to his mother, he’d always fought he precise movements that Sarah fought to teach him, fought to gain herself.  For Derek it wasn’t a choice, but instinct.  Stillness unless action was needed, precise movement to compensate for exhaustion and the always upcoming battle. 

He gasped when John’s hand trailed down his naked chest, ignoring scars and tattoos alike as he reached for Derek’s pants.  John barely touched him as he took each piece of clothing off, then pushed him back onto the bed, eyes capturing Derek’s for the first time since I’d started. 

He tugged his own shirt off as he took a step closer to his uncle, kicked out of his pants as he stepped into the space between his thighs.  When Derek scooted back onto the bed, John didn’t crawl up his body, but slid in beside him, his fingers beginning to trace the wound that had brought them together in the first place. 

“John…” He didn’t realize his voice could be that weak, that needy.  He’d never heard himself like that, not in interrogations or when the medics were doing field work, stitching him up without medicine or pain killers so they could survive a little longer.

“I’ve got you Derek.” 

Derek had no idea what those words meant; only that yes was the answer to it. 

John leaned over, his lips trailing over bullet marks and knife wounds, his tongue tracing the ink on his skin as if he could embed them further with his touch.  Jesus, Derek thought, he just might.

“John,” he tried again.  “I need…”

“I know.”

John’s hand moved across his abdomen until his fingers were curled around Derek’s cock, his hips trying valiantly to rise even as Derek forced himself to stay still, to not break whatever this moment was. 

“Is this what you want?”  John asked in his ear, lips a breath away from his skin.  He turned his head but John moved back, lips out of reach and it was more than Derek could take.

He moved, pushing John back onto the mattress and pressed hard into him.  “I need.”  He demanded, his lips crashing hard into John’s.  The other man moaned and Derek felt his hands grabbing at his ass, pulling him into the right spot and the friction between them was so damn good.  He could get off just like that but it wasn’t what he wanted, what he needed it to be.

“Do it.”  John whispered into his lips, like he could read his mind and damn John Connor because even more than his brother, John Connor had always been able to read Derek. 

It wasn’t the same as what Derek was used to, but he’d done this before, frightened men in a world of hell, surrounded by metal and taking comfort in what little they could.  It was different now though; different with John than it would ever be with anyone else and small part of him mourned for what John had lost in the future, mourned the look in his eyes that Derek hadn’t understood.

But John was under him now and as he pushed his fingers inside him, John moaned, pressing back into his hand and he let the future be the past for a while, let himself sink into the beautiful heat of the John beneath him.

“God... now Derek…”

He didn’t know if John was ready, really ready for this, but he couldn’t wait any longer.  He pulled his fingers free and then he was pressing inside young flesh and marveling at the sound of his name as it fell from John’s lips, a litany of awe and revelation. 

John’s legs wrapped around him, hips rolling against Derek’s and he could feel the hard flesh pressing against his stomach and he shuddered with the want that continued to rock through him.  He pulled out, the full length of his cock before sliding back in.  John gasped, lips pressed against his throat and Derek closed his eyes against the vision, embedding it into his memory so that nothing could steal it away.  A vision to replace the pain and torture that was to come in the following years.  John Connor had taught him.  He wondered if he would teach John Connor.  He wondered if this vision of the two of them together had kept John safely in his head when his body was being ripped apart in those early years.

A sob nearly broke through his defenses and he opened his eyes, looking at the man beneath him, taking in the flush that spread across his body, the passion that filled his eyes as he looked back.  John’s hand came up to his neck and Derek was kissing him again, kissing him like there was nothing left on the earth, no air to breath that wasn’t in John’s lungs, no land to sink against that wasn’t John’s body.

He wrapped his hand around John, stroked in time with his thrusts and when John was squirming Derek changed his angle.  He pressed against John’s prostate and John was screaming his name, come painting their skin as they continued the slick, slide against one another.

He followed quickly after, his hips thrusting into the tightening muscles and instead of letting John’s name fall from his lips, Derek devoured John’s mouth to keep his reverence quiet. 

When his heart stopped pounding, Derek pulled away gently.  His heart pounded for another reason then and he slid his legs over the side of the bed, hands buried in his hair as he looked down at the floor, trying to figure out how he’d managed to screw this up so monumentally.

If his mother had been there… but Jesus she hadn’t been and Derek was the only thing John had now except a monster of a ‘sister’ that they could never completely trust. 

“Derek.”  He jumped because he hadn’t felt John moving behind him.  His hand was on Derek’s shoulder though, one leg falling beside Derek’s over the side of the bed.  He watched him with knowing eyes.  “I needed too.”

“I know.”

“I always will.”  And he knew that look from so many days in the trenches but he’d never understood.  Until now.  He wasn’t sure it made it alright exactly, but it did.  So he smiled softly and pressed a kiss to John’s lips.

“I know.”

**Author's Note:**

> written for the Fall Fandom Free For All, prompt for [](http://perdiccas.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://perdiccas.livejournal.com/)**perdiccas**


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